The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1887-07-02

| figure | saw reflected in the tall old Queen
Anne mirror as | turned the last corner OF the
broad staircase-a figure all snowy white,
! from its lace hounces and bouquet of Devon
iensis roses to the slender necklace single
string of antique pearls, part of the dowry OF
Black Gervase' s poor child bride, whose heart
he broke three months from their marriage
morning.
oh. that ball Shall ever have such an
other if live to be hundred? Charlie says
but there, I'm getting ahead of my story.
My first partner was a younger son of a
Sussex family, old enough even to dance with
Blessington. | had always read in novels
that younger sons were endowed with all the
beauty, wit and cleverness in which elder
sons were invariably deficient, but tonight L
found that novels did not always cling to
truth At all events, if such a natural en-
dowment of cadet branches were the rule, my
present partner was born to prove by gram
matical precedent.
We were making our way back to Aunt
| Alicia at the close of what | could not con-
scientiously describe as an exciting set of
lancers, when young man had seen on the
outer staircase as we arrived hurried up to my
partner and touched him on the arm, with a
few low words. My scion of lengthy line
bowed, and, turning, introduced him to me.
''Mr. Smith, Miss Bessington." "Smithl -
| | thought, stwhat an ordinary name for such
splendid looking man. but before that
night was out could have forgiven him any
| name.
bowed, Mr.. Smith bowed. There was a
murmur of pleasure and an answering
murmur of "delighted," and when | reached
my chaperon's side it was with a somewhat
guilty conscience, and a card with the sigma
ture sc. C. Smith," in a firm, bold hand,
three times repeated upon its surface.
Ny lucky star-if by any chance possess
one-must have been in the ascendent that
night if it never was before. How else could
it have happened that Aunt Alicia, who knew
her duties as chaperon to the letter, who
would have died rather than suffer me to
dance with partners other than of her own
selection, who would have burnt to death in
her armchair rather than forsake her post.
should yet have permitted me to escape her
watchful eye? From my inmost heart L
blessed the deputy lieutenant Of the country,
who held her in conversation for two whole
dances, during which | left her and returned
| to her without possibility of remark. Finally
he entered her to be his partner in a rubber,
and offered his wife as her representative in
the chaperonng line in her absence. Aunt
Alicia graciously complied, placed me under
the wing of old Lady Northover, who was
goodnatnre itself, and sailed off to the card
room, where my uncle was already engaged,
on Sir George Northover's aged arm.
| Ny deputy chaperon was neither keen of
sight nor quick of comprehension, besides
having two granddaughter of her own to find
partners for, and l think she was relieved that
| / troubled her so little. Atall events hoped
so. For my own part, having dutifully filled
my card with the eligible but dull partners
approved by Aunt Alicia, | felt that l had
earned the right to at least some small enjoy
ment of my own, and that enjoyment / OBJ
tanned from the society of Mr.. Smith.
His waltzingI Ahl l had often heard of
the poetry of motion, but never knew before
what it meant. Down the long ballroom we
hoated together, moved as by one power,
feeling as though borne on the passionate
throb of the music, wrapped in bliss. At
least | was; | don't know what Cha,
Mr.. Smith, | mean, thought aboutit. To my
great surprise it seemed as if we had known
each other for long time by the end of that
first exquisite waltz ! never felt SO utterly
at my ease with any one before, and he had a
most comfortable way of understanding ex-
actly what / meant before the words were well
out of my mouth.
| wasn't always SO fortunate. Once, when
we paused for breath, he said something
about cycles, which ! thought poetical way
of speaking of ages of time, till | found he
meant wheeled machines-bicycles and tricy-
cles, and things of that sort. didn't know
much upon the subject. | fear, but | had
heard my aunt speak of that order Of vehicle,
in terms of unbounded reprobation, as an in
vention of the enemy-one of the evil signs OF
the latter end of the world, and certain in
dication of immortality and vulgarity on the
part of any man who rode one. | therefore
quoted these views, proud of my little infor
nation, and was astonished to find them re-
ceiyed with burst of mirth which somewhat
took me aback.
''Some day you shall see mine," he said,
when he recovered enough gravity to speak.
''Mine is Humber but don't think it is
really more stepped in sin than any other
make; you shall Judge for yourself" And
then, seeing me look dignifed- no woman
likes to be laughed at, and after all it was
Aunt Alicias absurdity, and not mine-he
begged my pardon so contritely, and seemed
SO angry with himself for having vexed me,
even for minute, that could not help for
giving him completely.
"And so you live at Copford Manor house?'
he said as we slowly descended the crimson
covered staircase together. All, all was at an
end That one night from Paradise vanished
with the gray summer dawn that greeted US
at the open doorway, where the sleek bays
were paving the cobble-stones in their zeal to
bear the family coach on its homeward jour
ney. He had been waiting outside the cloak
room door, and offered me his arm as
emerged. Slowly, slowly we wandered down
those few steps, my uncle's great coat and my
aunt's hood bobbing before US. "Copford
Manor-house And do you ever take any
walksF'
''Fhere is only one to take" said mourn
fully, "0nly one road runs near the house;
there Is but one way of escape; the long car.
riage-drive that crosses the three moats and
passes through the pine wood. There's no
other way from the high road to the manor
house except foot path over the fields.
Sand do you often walk that way?'
Sometimes.
There was no time for another word. One
last hand shake, and was in my own corner
of the family coach, the door banged, we
were off. | sank back into the cushions, and
caught one more glimpse of him as we turned
the corner, still standing motlonleSG and bare
headed on the lowest step of the staircase
gazing after us. Perhaps it was not after us
after all: yet it looked like it, and hoped SO.
| needed one little ray of hope to brace me
up for the evil quarter of an hour which l
knew too well was prepared for me-.
''And who" inquired my aunt, in her iciest
tones, sis the gentleman who conducted you
to the carriage, may ask 7"
INJURED.
'An infantry subalternl'' My aunt's voice
was study. did actually see you dance
twice with him? l should be glad to hear
how you made his acquaintance"
Twice. Oh, my guilty soul Five times
and supper was the awful record on the card
l had hidden in the folds of my laces.
sMr. Treloar introduced him. | explained.
"Unheard of conduct on Gerald Treloar's
part. And may be permitted to hear the
young mans name ?'
'It's-in fact it's-that is to say-it's Mr..
Smith, l faltered,
''Smith ~ My aunt fell back among the
cushions. "Don't let me hear of you ever
dancing with him again, if you please" she
said with polite GOODNESS.
] assented meekly. If ever l had the
chapee af dancing with him again, she
should not hear Of It, | thought, Already |
had begun to tread the downward path,
"Smith, Smith, murmured my uncle from
under his muhiers. s'Smith, of the West
Rutlandshirs? Oh, ayeI nice fellow enough
meet him at the olpb-civil and modest for
these times. Rides a tricycle. to all the meets
for miles round''
ga tr;ovola "; almost ehr;aLad M aunt and